


The Curious Case of Stiles Stilinski's Weird Dream

by MeriBotti



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent Lives, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fix-It, M/M, Slow Burn, Stiles is pining, Time Travel Fix-It, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live, author stopped watching show pretty early on season 4, it gets tricky, stiles discovers magic is fun but costly, there is an attempt anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriBotti/pseuds/MeriBotti
Summary: The writers of Teen Wolf sucked at resolving character arcs and recognizing juicy emotional conflicts so I have come here to peddle my take on how to fix that. There's time travel but Stiles doesn't magically become omniscient, that would be too easy, and nothing in Stiles' life is easy.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	The Curious Case of Stiles Stilinski's Weird Dream

Stiles is 25.

He is 25, his career as an F.B.I. agent has gone down the drain, but Stiles doesn't care. His best friend who hasn't been his best friend since not-Stiles killed Allison is dead, but Stiles doesn't care. The girl who he thought he was in love with, and he was once upon a time, is clinically insane because Death won't stop screaming at her, but Stiles doesn't care. There are more bodies. Whether they are live ones or not is irrelevant. The crucial part is this; they're all disconnected and alone, when they were supposed to be together. A pack that is not pack.

Stiles is sure s omething has to be wrong. Something must have  _ gone _ wrong. Maybe it was the moment a katana pierced Allison. Maybe it was the moment Stiles failed to save Erica and Boyd from Gerard, leading them right to the claws of Deucalion. Maybe it was the night Stiles coerced Scott to follow him into a forest to find a corpse.

Hell.

Maybe it was the summer before Stiles got possessed, when Scott was busy with his new life, leaving Stiles to badger Derek out of bored curiosity. Maybe it was the moment Stiles stupidly kissed Derek after months of pining, and Derek kissed him back, only to disappear before summer was over without a word. Only returning when Stiles wasn't Stiles anymore, seemingly forgotten the kiss had happened at all. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was something else. But Stiles knows that this, right now, is wrong. He selfishly refuses to accept all the dead bodies, the friends who "grew apart", the reality.

Stiles is 25, and he isn't a fool child anymore. He has nothing to lose because even Derek is a husk of himself. So Stiles goes to see an old friend. He takes the bus to Beacon Hills because his mother's jeep gave out 3 years ago, when a cockatrice Stiles was chasing completely wrecked it with its talons. Stiles goes to the Nemeton, and it thrums in greeting. Stiles opens a door. There is a price.

There is always a price.

"You get three. Use them well," a voice which sounds just like Stiles's own explains. Only it's sharper. It takes cruel delight in its vagueness, in the joke it knows Stiles doesn't have the punchline to. Stiles knows there's a trick, there is always a trick. But that's alright. Stiles knew a fox once. He's used to tricks.

He smiles at the challenge.

"Bring it on."

* * *

He wakes up slowly. He becomes aware of the cold sweat that covers his body. The pressure. The tiny pieces of stone digging into his skin. The musky scent of the earth. The lack of air. He tries to take a breath but his nose is filled with soil. He's suffocating. Somehow he manages enough strength to force his hands to move up. Up to his face to break the layers of dirt over him. Break through enough to let air fill the spaces between the clumps of earth he's desperately shifting through. Somehow he manages to dig himself out from where he was buried. He's dizzy and coughing dirt from his mouth, sneezing it from his nose, but he made it. He can breathe. He's naked and covered in a wet sheen. Needless to say his body is covered in dirt as well. He wipes grains of dirt from himself, runs his fingers through his hair and more dirt falls from him as he does so. He looks around, trying to figure out where the hell he is.

Instinctively he knows that the large tree trunk in front of him is called the Nemeton. It means holy ground, and this is not the only place like it, but in the case of this tree Nemeton is also its name. Stiles feels its roots reaching for him, strangely reminding him of a worried mother in how they feel. But Stiles steps away. He doesn't want to return to the ground. He can't. It's too dark, too tight. He needs to feel the air on his skin and see the empty space around him. He doesn't know how long he's been buried under there. He has a strange feeling, like he shouldn't have gotten up. Like he was supposed to stay there. Like he doesn't belong here. But he doesn't know why and he really doesn't want to go back.

He looks to the sky and sees that it’s dark with night. The stars twinkle on a blue canvas and the moon is nearly full, but not quite. Stiles doesn't remember why that's significant. The Nemeton is getting more insistent, and that makes Stiles anxious so he moves away from it. He walks to the treeline of the clearing. He has a vague feeling like he knows where he's going. The forest seems to wake up around him, curious of his presence. He doesn't question how he can tell. It's not like the ferns are suddenly reaching for him. It's not like the trees are suddenly moving their branches on their own. It's simply a static energy he can feel.

It seems like it's late summer, only just shifting to autumn. It's a cool night, he's naked and covered in sweat, and the breeze is making him shiver. He stumbles over rocks and roots because his feet are numb with the cold and he doesn't feel the obstacles on his way until he steps on them.

Suddenly he hears something else moving around. Breaking branches, shifting dirt, the wet squelch of moss being stepped on. And it's coming closer. Stiles tries to run because he doesn't know what--or who it is, and the unknown is frightening. The forest helpfully lends its senses to Stiles. Somehow he hears the messages from the various flora as they sense the approaching creature moving through them. It's useless in the end.

A large dark wolf pounces on Stiles and he falls to the ground with a pained grunt. His hip hits a tree root and he tries to shift up from it, supporting his weight on his hands, but the wolf slams its paws on his back with force and Stiles's breath is punched out. He wheezes and wants to curl in on himself. The wolf growls and Stiles can't help but whimper. He expects a bite, pain, but it doesn't come. Instead the weight shifts away. After a beat Stiles cautiously sits up. The wolf just stands beside him. Looking. At him. There's intelligence in its eyes and Stiles feels self-conscious. The wolf huffs when Stiles brings his knees to his chest, almost as if it's dismissing his embarrassment. It turns away from him and takes a few steps before it looks back at Stiles. Expectantly.

"Do you... want me to follow," Stiles trails off, questioning if the wolf really understands him. But somehow Stiles knows it will. The wolf gestures its head between the direction it's facing and Stiles. It starts walking, Stiles follows. He stays behind, too wary to get close. Stiles's teeth start chattering soon, which leads the wolf to slow its pace to walk beside him. It startles Stiles and he can't help but move away from it a little, but it just gives Stiles an annoyed look and moves back closer to him. Close enough that its side is brushing against Stiles. The wolf is radiating warmth and Stiles cautiously brings his hand on the wolf's back, which is approximately at the height of Stiles's belly. Tentatively he buries his fingers in the dark fur. The wolf doesn't seem to mind. It leads Stiles through the forest to a large, crumbling house. It's mostly wood, rotting and ashen. It's the Hale house, and that makes sense. He did seem to be somewhere in the Preserve.

The wolf starts treading up the weathered stairs to the door, and it looks at Stiles impatiently when it notices he stopped following.

"You want me to go in there?" He squeaks. "But it's all moldy and stuff. There could be rusty nails, or glass..."

The wolf looks unimpressed. It pushes the door open by standing on its hind legs and goes inside. Stiles scrambles after it.

He finds the wolf sitting by a pile of clothes, neatly folded on a crooked table. Stiles wants to question this, but he's already 90% convinced this has all been either a dream or a fae trick, and he's not sure Beacon Hills has fae. Either way he won't look at a gift pile of clothes in the… seams? He does whisper a thank you to the wolf on an impulse before he starts getting dressed. He finds jeans that are long and loose on him, a t-shirt that is similarly loose on him, a leather jacket and a pair of boots, which are luckily only a couple sizes too big. When he turns to look at the wolf he finds it's gone. Like it was never there in the first place.

But Stiles is tired and dirty, so he decides not to push his luck and just starts walking home. He can't feel the forest's presence anymore but that's fine. He's more alert now and he's starting to think he really was dreaming the wolf. He could have been sleepwalking, teetering on the edge of consciousness. He wonders whose clothes he just stole, and if his own pajamas are lying somewhere scattered on the forest floor. Of course Stiles had to strip himself naked while sleepwalking.

He ends up hitching a ride home from a sympathetic taxi driver, who probably only buys Stiles' sleepwalking story because he's Stiles, the Sheriff's son, and the whole middle aged population of Beacon Hills seems to know him as _that quirky boy the Sheriff keeps having to wrangle._

Dad's face certainly was something to see when Stiles rung the doorbell at whatever-a-clock in the night and his sleepy father opened the door, only to see his son on the other side.

"Stiles?" John seemed to wake up instantly. Stiles smiled nervously and mumbled "Hi dad."

"Jesus, kid!" John hauled Stiles inside. "What are you doing out? Are you alright?" He looked Stiles over before hugging him, not giving Stiles the chance to answer.

"I'm ok," Stiles mumbled to his dad's chest. "I was sleepwalking. I think. I went all the way to the Preserve. Threw my clothes somewhere on the way by the by, which I sincerely hope happened only after I made it to the preserve because I swear, if any of the neighbours saw me streaking while asleep I am never stepping out of this house again-"

"Woah, woah," John stopped Stiles, "slow down." Taking another look at him he looked bewildered. "What are you wearing?"

"I was just getting to that part," Stiles whined. "I woke up at the Hale house and there just was a pile of clothes." Stiles did not mention the dream wolf, nor did he intend to. "Maybe I stole some drugged out dude's clothes, and now the poor guy has to wake up from a trip all naked," Stiles deadpanned. John didn't look amused.

"And you're sure you're ok? Nothing sprained or otherwise hurting?"

"I'm fine. I mean I probably rolled around in the mud a couple times, as you can probably tell by my dashing good looks, but I'm ok."

John sighed and gave Stiles another hug. Then he pulled away and switched over to the dad look.

"Alright. Go get cleaned up and then back to bed. You're allowed to skip one class tomorrow-"

Stiles opened his mouth but John didn't let him ask.

"-just the one. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Stiles saluted, then scrambled off to the shower, thankful his father had believed him. He wouldn't blame him if he had thought Stiles was trying to pull one over him.  First Stiles went to his room to grab himself new sleep clothes, and to his horror he saw his old ones lying on the floor, taunting him.

"Oh no… I really did run around the neighbourhood butt naked…"

He wallowed in the humiliation a moment, then he grabbed the t-shirt and boxers that made up his pajamas and headed to shower. If he was lucky everyone had been too busy sleeping to notice Stiles' nightly naked adventure. He left the stranger's clothes in the bathroom, intending to wash them later and then… something. Let's be honest, he's never returning them to whoever they belonged to. He could donate them, he supposed. They were in good enough condition. But Stiles decided to solve that issue later. Looking at his digital clock he could see that it was almost 4am. He groaned and set himself an alarm. He'd sleep through that first class.

Outside the moon was still glowing, less than a week from being full. And if Stiles had glanced at it from his window he might have also seen that down the streets sat a dark wolf, listening intently for Stiles to fall asleep. But Stiles never looked out the window that night.

* * *

The next day Stiles woke up later than intended, so he skipped breakfast and hurried to school with just a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth. The clothes he left there were gone, his father had probably taken them.

He got into his jeep and then noticed he'd forgotten his bag. He ran up and grabbed it, hoping he'd make it in time. He didn't want to disappoint his dad when he had given Stiles express permission to skip. Stiles was a big believer in positive reinforcement. For example, a great way to stop dad from sneaking unhealthy treats when Stiles wasn't looking was to allow the occasional indulgence at home. After the occasional burger and fries dad was always less grumbly about the low cholesterol meals Stiles designed for him rest of the time.

When he finally made it to school he was late for his second class, but that was fine because so was the teacher. He sat down beside Scott who was pleasantly surprised to see him, bless his wonderful heart. "I thought you were sick or something."

"Nah," Stiles smiled smugly, "dad let me sleep in. It was definitely deserved-" he paused.

"Shit!"

"What?" Scott startled.

"I forgot to take my adderall!"

"Oh." Scott relaxed while Stiles fumed.

"I already almost forgot my bag at home, so technically I forgot it twice. Urgh."

"Anyway," Stiles continued. "I was sleepwalking last night all over the forest, made it all the way to the Hale house. I haven't done that since I was eight!"

"You sound weirdly happy about that,” Scott grinned.

The teacher finally showed up so their conversation was left there. Mostly.

"You should have seen the place." Stiles whispered. "I get why people keep going there, even though it's like, kind of disrespectful and stuff-"

"Stiles!"

"Yes ma'am?" He jumped up.

"Pay attention in class," Ms Wheeler croaked.

"Ok."

"And sit down."

Someone snickered.

It was a very normal day. Lydia didn't notice Stiles once. Jackson was an asshole during chemistry when Stiles kept badgering Harris about hypothetical undiscovered elements of the periodic table, claiming that Stiles was interfering with Jackson's education when they were supposed to be learning about nuclear fusion. Stiles got to run some laps during lacrosse and spent the rest of the practise either setting balls for other players to goal or failing to goal himself. Nothing to write home about. The fun came after, when he went to bring dad his lunch.

As he stepped inside the police station he heard a man growling at Amanda, who was in reception.

"Laura wouldn't just cut contact! Something must have happened."

"I'm sorry sir, but seeing as your sister is legally an adult we need you to wait at least 24 hours before filing a-"

"Forget it." The man turned to storm off, presumably, but he stopped briefly when he noticed Stiles shamelessly staring. He had dark hair and neatly shaved scruff on his face. His eyes were framed by wonderful thick frowny brows, and his broad shoulders were somehow accentuated by the leather jacket he was wearing and- oh shit! That was Derek Hale!

Derek Hale scoffed at Stiles and moved to leave.

"Wait!" Stiles said to Derek Hale.

"I can talk to my dad for you. He's the Sheriff, so I'm sure he could, you know, make an exception if you explained things to him." Stiles offered. To Derek Hale.

He looked surprised at the offer. "No," Derek said after a moment, "honestly I don't think the police could do much. Thanks," he bowed his head a little, and then he was gone. Stiles tried not to feel insulted for the officers by Derek's lack of faith.

"That was  _ Derek Hale _ out there," Stiles skipped the greetings when he stepped into the Sheriff's office.

John raised a brow. "I heard. His voice carries."

Stiles set the lunch on the table.

"Poor kid, his sister came here a couple days ago to visit their uncle. He’s in the permanent care ward here. Came to exchange pleasantries and everything.” John glanced at the direction Derek had left, then at Stiles fiddling with his work papers. “I remember when they were still in high school."

"Huh," Stiles bit his cheek thoughtfully. "So Laura hasn't contacted him for a while. They must get paranoid about that kind of thing, you know. Since they're the only family they've got left…"

John looked at Stiles, thinking his son shared that trait with Derek, what with his obsessive way of looking after his old man. He chose not to point this out though.

"So what am I getting today?" He peeked in the bag Stiles had brought.

"Whole grain sandwich wrap with veggies, nuts and chicken,” Stiles listed off cheerfully.

"What about mayonnaise?"

"I gave you cheese!"

John groaned affectionately. They spent their lunch time talking about whatever Stiles found interesting at the moment, which currently seemed to be the Hale fire. John couldn't believe it had been ten years already. Talia Hale had been a popular woman, for a brief time Claudia had been dragging him and Stiles to the Hale's barbeques on her request, but then they got preoccupied with her health. He doubted Stiles even remembered those barbeques very well.

While Stiles was leaving he couldn’t resist the temptation and took a brief detour to spy on the recent cases in the file room.

That night he fell asleep wondering if the two Hales would be staying around. Assuming Derek would find his sister.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm here. Starting another project with 3 different wips crying at me to work on them. Well I say to that, naw bitch. This tickles my brain right now so this is what I'm working on. That being said I need a hot minute rewatch a couple seasons of Teen Wolf so I can take notes about stuff. This might take a while. I will avoid rehashing dialogue, I just wanna know who did what when.


End file.
